


Someone Who Knows

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Come From Away - Sankoff & Hein
Genre: A slight arrythmia nothing serious, After Gander, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Nick POV, falling asleep together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23535898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: Nick feels fine, until he doesn't, and the doctor in Dallas is clear: he should not fly again until his heart condition is under control. Diane suggests he stay with her while he's in Dallas, and both reveal something about their past that makes the future clearer.
Relationships: Nick/Diane
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is not RPF  
> While Nick and Diane in the musical are based on real people, this story is set strictly in the fictional representation of them in the musical, ‘Come From Away’. I haven’t done any research into their personal lives, and anything further than what is canon in the musical is completely made up, with the exception of some geographical details. This is not intended to represent the real life couple in any way, their thoughts, attitudes or actions. It’s just my brain saying, ‘what if?’, as it does to every story that resonates with me.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, “but I really can’t allow you to fly.”

Nick blinked at her, trying to understand her words. Everything felt strange since he’d arrived in Dallas. “But…for how long?”

“Well,” she said, sitting back against her desk and crossing her arms, “I’d really like to see how you respond to this medication. Your heart condition isn’t serious on its own, but your ECG isn’t great and if it is the stress of this situation causing it, it would be irresponsible of me to let you get on a plane.”

Nick nodded. “Okay,” he said cautiously. “So what do you suggest?”

She looked at him. “Right now, I want you to start on this medication. I’ll see you again every day, but I’m not prepared to make a call until your results are normal.”

“Well, given the state of the airports, that might not matter,” Nick said with an attempted smile. “But theoretically, if I was to find a seat on a plane tomorrow?”

Her eyebrow flicked, but she looked at him steadily. “I can’t force you to stay here,” she said. “But it would be my professional opinion that you should not fly until we’ve got your heart under control. Which right now, it is not.”

“So I shouldn’t make any plans,” he asked her.

“I wouldn’t, no,” she said. “Look, this could be sorted in a couple of days, but it might take longer. And from what I can see, it’ll be a lot of hassle trying to get yourself on a plane anyway. Just wait until we know you’re under control, then you can make plans.”

“Right,” Nick said. He took the notes she’d scribbled down for him. “Thank you.”

Before leaving the consultation room Nick took a second to compose himself, opening the door carefully when he felt as calm as he was going to get. Diane had sprung to her feet as soon as he appeared outside, and Nick tried for a smile.

“It’s not serious,” he said, her anxious face signalling how much she had been worrying. It had been kind of her to stay for so long, but as he watched her fingers twist anxiously together, a whisper of a question came back to him.

_Why is she so worried about me?_

“Okay,” Diane said finally, and Nick took her hand as they sat down. Her fingers wrapped tightly around his.

“Basically, the doctor’s given me some medication, but she suggests I shouldn’t fly until they’ve got it…sorted,” he said. Avoiding the phrase ‘under control’ with respect to his heart seemed prudent given how upset Diane had become while he was gone.

“So what does that mean?” she was asking.

“It means she wants me to stay in Dallas until she’s happy with everything,” he told her. “New medication, and she wants to see me each day to check on how my heart’s going.”

“So you can’t organise a flight right now,” Diane said slowly.

“No,” Nick said, trying to figure out how to downplay it a little. “Well, she said she can’t make me stay, but it’s her professional opinion I shouldn’t fly. Just in case.”

Diane nodded, her face serious. “Well if that’s what she thinks,” she said, “you should stay.”

Nick nodded, his mind already trying to figure out what he needed to do. “I’m going to have to find somewhere to stay,” he said, talking more to himself than to Diane. “Close to here. And a chemist, and…”

“You could stay with me,” Diane said. The words tumbled over each other and from the shock on her face, Nick had the definite idea she hadn’t entirely planned to make the offer. It was a terrible idea, his brain told him; he’d already had to downplay the growing attraction he was feeling towards her. Without the buffer of a lot of other people around, it would be more difficult to keep his feelings to himself.

_Although you might be able to figure out if she feels the same._

“Oh no,” he began, but she spoke again, voice determined.

“Please,” she said, “you won’t find anywhere close to here, it’s too near the airport. And I have plenty of space, and,” she took a deep breath, “I’ll be worried about you anyway. So you might as well come stay with me.”

Nick looked at her, wondering again if there was something more than friendship under her kindness. The thought had occurred to him more than once, but he’d made a point not to act on it. The embarrassment of a rejection, no matter how gentle, would have been exacerbated if they were still stuck in Newfoundland together.

Now, however…

“If you’re sure,” he said, still hesitant.

“I am,” she said. “Look, it’s getting late. Stay one night and see what happens tomorrow.” Nick nodded, and she continued, “Let’s find a drug store and organise something to eat.”

“Certainly,” Nick replied. “Thank you.”

Diane smiled, and he still had no idea where her motivation lay on the friendly/romantic scale. Only when she touched his arm did her words register.

“Come on.”

It was far easier to follow Diane than find his way around the largely unfamiliar city. She drove to a chemist, calling her sister on the way; Nick remained silent as Diane deftly managed to sidestep most of her sister’s questions and ascertain that yes, she had in fact stocked the house with fresh food in anticipation of Diane’s return. His brain was occupied telling him all the reasons this was a terrible idea, but he ignored it as best he could. He’d made his decision, and now he’d have to live with it. Whichever way it went, at least he would know.

“Thank you,” Diane said, turning into a parking spot outside the chemist. “Look, Sharon, I’m exhausted, my body clock’s nowhere near Dallas time, and I’ve had enough of other people for a very long time.”

“Even your sister?” Sharon objected, her voice sharp through the speakerphone.

“Yes, even you,” Diane told her without heat. “And David. Can you just give me a couple of days? I’ll call you when I’m ready to catch up, alright?”

“Fine,” Sharon finally relented. “But I want you to call me tomorrow, alright?”

“Fine,” Diane agreed.

“Bye,” Sharon signed off.

“Bye,” Diane echoed before turning off her phone. She turned to Nick with a tight, apologetic smile. He returned it, sure a lifetime of family dynamics had swirled beneath the surface of their conversation. He didn’t understand, of course, but he could see the tension in Diane’s body after her conversation.

“Had enough of other people?” Nick asked, raising one eyebrow with a smile.

“There are exceptions,” she admitted.

The conversation didn’t feel finished, but Nick didn’t pursue it until they’d successfully made it into and out of the chemist with his new prescription. He wanted to…something. Say something to let her know he’d recognised how difficult the conversation with her sister had been, even if he didn’t fully understand why.

“If you need some space,” he said, the words sounding awkward as they fastened their seatbelts, “please say so. I don’t want to crowd you.”

Diane stopped preparing to pull into traffic and looked at him. When the car behind beeped her impatiently, she pulled out, not speaking until she was able to turn into a side street. Nick wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, but the set of her jaw told him there was a reason. Pulling the car over, she turned it off and turned to face him. His heart was beating a little faster than usual as he waited for her to speak, but she looked at him for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“There were way too many people in Gander,” she said quietly.

“There were,” Nick agreed, when it became evident she was waiting for some response.

“There won’t be anyone at home,” Diane said, a frown on her face. Nick thought she might be trying to figure out how to explain something. “The house will be empty. It will be a big change. Sudden.”

Nick nodded. Was she just happy to have him around to lessen the shock of moving from the busy shelter to her home? As he was wondering, her hand reached out, settling on his knee.

“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather figure this out with,” she said. “You know what it was like in Gander, and I don’t…” she swallowed. Her voice trembled, but she didn’t look at him. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain it. The sandwiches? The fish? The time on the planes?”

_She needs someone that understands. As she transitions back to home._

_A friend?_

_Or…_

“Yes,” Nick replied quietly. “I have been wondering the same thing.”

“And,” Diane said, “if you’re going to be in Dallas, I would much rather you were close. Maybe we can help each other. I mean, I can drive you to the doctor and…”

Nick laid his hand over hers, still resting on his knee and she fell silent. They sat like that for a moment before he spoke.

“I’ll appreciate your company, too,” Nick said. “I hadn’t thought about it, but a hotel room on my own would be…strange.”

“Okay,” Diane said finally, when their shared gaze had drawn out far longer than usual. “So this is for both of us.”

“Yes,” Nick said. “Company from someone who knows.”

Diane smiled. “Yes,” she said.

After another quiet moment, she eased her hand out from under Nick’s and turned the car on again. They drove the rest of the way in silence, but it was comfortable and easy. Diane pulled up outside a small detached house, glancing at Nick self-consciously.

“Here we are,” she said, climbing out.

They collected their luggage and Nick followed her up the steps and across the porch. Her hand trembled as she unlocked the door and they stepped inside. The air was fresher than Nick would have anticipated, and the burst of colour that caught his eye were flowers on the dining table. The yellows and oranges were like bright flares of life, and Nick stopped in the entranceway.

“Sharon,” Diane murmured, following his gaze.

Of course, her sister had brought in some groceries, Nick remembered. He parked his suitcase by the door, eyes moving back to Diane. She was standing still, one hand outstretched to the bright blossoms on the table. It wasn’t until her fingers started shaking and her head dropped forward he realised she was crying.

“Diane?” he asked tentatively, stepping forward. His first impulse was to hug her, and he felt like that might be an acceptable option, given how their friendship had developed. Just because he was interested in something more than friendship didn’t mean he couldn’t offer her a hug, did it? Darn it, this was the kind of quandary he was hoping to avoid. The potential for disaster was great, but he couldn’t leave her without offering some kind of comfort.

Tempting fate, Nick laid one hand on her shoulder, fully prepared to step back again if she wasn’t receptive to it, but she turned into him, pressing her face to his chest. He didn’t even have to think; his arms came around her, holding her protectively. Her hands were at her face, and Nick could feel her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. He wished he could do something. This felt like poor comfort, but he wasn’t going to break the connection first. So he waited, standing still as the sobs lessened until they stopped altogether. It wasn’t a hardship, standing with Diane in his arms. Her perfume filled his nose, and she was warm and solid before him. He resisted the temptation to drop a kiss on her head, not wanting to take advantage of anything.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice muffled into his chest. “It feels strange. Being here. Being home.”

“It must,” Nick replied, smiling gently at her as she turned her face up to look at him. He tried to ignore how close she was and how beautiful she looked. It was a gift, someone allowing themselves to be vulnerable with you, and he was very aware of how long it had been since he’d been in that position. She’d been bestowing that part of herself on him since the plane, where she confided her fears about David. Nick knew he’d been awkward. He wasn’t sure how to accept what she was offering without being…well.

He didn’t want this to end the way it did with Clarissa.

“Oh, you’re still so far from home,” Diane said, her eyes growing wide. “I’m sorry, how thoughtless of me.”

“Not at all,” Nick replied immediately. “It must be overwhelming. I’m just glad I can help.”

“You have,” Diane said. “So patient. Thank you.”

Nick just smiled without speaking. There was a chance he would blurt something ridiculous if he did. Something he couldn’t take back, that might ruin the delicate balance of their relationship.

“I’d like to make you a cup of tea,” Nick said, “but I fear that might be presumptuous in your own house.”

“No,” Diane said, “though I can’t promise there’s anything you would call decent tea here.”

“No tea?” Nick exclaimed, though he tempered the small joke with a smile.

“There’s some kind of tea,” Diane said. “But I mostly use it to make sweet iced tea so it’s probably not up to your standards.”

The fact that Diane was teasing him again was a good sign, and Nick deliberately rolled his eyes at her before she turned towards the kitchen. He wanted to protest as their hands slid from each other, but he restrained himself. It had been wonderful to hold Diane, but the moment was gone. He followed her into the kitchen, taking a seat at the breakfast bar as she picked up the note on the bench.

“Let’s see what my sister has brought us,” Diane said, reading the note. “Oh my God, that’s perfect!”

She grinned, holding it up so Nick could read it.

_Fajitas in the oven. Fixings in the fridge. Sharon x_

“Fajitas?” he asked, the word an unfamiliar shape in his mouth. At least he’d spent enough time in Dallas to have an idea how to pronounce it, even if he’d never actually ordered it.

“Yep,” she told him, taking a pile of containers out of the fridge. “Well, she probably means ‘everything you need to make fajitas’ but that’s close enough for me.”

“Okay,” Nick said uncertainly. The tea was forgotten in light of food; his stomach reminded him it was a long time since he’d eaten. “I should take my medication if we’re going to eat.”

Diane pointed him to the water glasses and he filled one, eyes on Diane as she bustled around the kitchen. He wasn’t entirely sure where fajitas fit on the Mexican food scale, so he watched as she opened containers, pulled out plates and cutlery and finally, two covered trays from the oven. When she turned back to the bench, he saw tears standing in her eyes again. Nick didn’t mention it, but he watched as she brushed them away. There was something there, with her sister, but Nick wasn’t going to broach that subject.

He read the directions on the packet and popped one of the pills, swallowing it with a mouthful of water. Pulling his attention back to the bench, Nick felt his eyes grow wide at the flat breads, the tray from the oven with some kind of steak and onions, and a bewildering array of condiments.

“It’s easier than it looks,” Diane said, grinning at what he could feel was an uncertain expression on his face. “You take your tortilla,” she picked up one of the round flat breads, “you add whatever you want,” she pointed to the small containers, “and you eat it.”

Nick nodded. He leaned over, then sat back, deciding to roll up his shirtsleeves first. He was very conscious of Diane’s eyes on him; she’d started building her fajita but stopped, eyes lingering on his fingers as they worked. When the second sleeve was done, he smoothed it and looked up, meeting her eyes with a small smile. To his surprise she started, then blushed.

“Was there something?” Nick asked.

“No,” she was quick to reply. “Here.” She grabbed a tortilla and a plate, handing them to him before turning back to her own meal with a little more concentration than he would have thought necessary.

_Don’t read too much into it._

Shrugging off the moment – anyone would have been embarrassed to be caught staring, he told himself – Nick examined the options in front of him. Tentatively, he followed Diane’s example, copying her selection, before stopping to survey what he’d created.

How on earth was he supposed to eat this?

“Like this,” Diane said, answering his unasked question. He watched her fold the tortilla and lean far over the bench, juices and some of the filling falling out onto the plate. So, it would be messy, then.

It wasn’t something he was used to – generally Nick ate at the hotel restaurant when he was in Dallas – but it was good.

“Did your sister make all this?” he asked as they each assembled their second fajita.

“Yes,” Diane replied. “She knows it’s my favourite.”

“How thoughtful of her,” Nick replied. He ventured, “Are you close?”

Diane wiggled her head consideringly. “We used to be,” she said eventually. “Not so much in the last couple of years.”

She didn’t elaborate and Nick didn’t want to push.

“Well, it’s very good,” he said eventually. “I haven’t eaten a lot of Mexican food before.”

“You still haven’t,” Diane said with a grin. “This is Tex Mex.”

“Tex Mex,” Nick said carefully. Diane looked amused, so he asked, “What?”

“It sounds a lot different with your accent,” she told him. She stood straight and adopted an English accent. “Tex Mex.”

Nick groaned. “I do not sound like that,” he said indignantly.

“You sound something like that,” she told him, breaking into giggles.

“Say it again with your accent,” he said with a smile. He was trying not to stare, but the sparkle in her eye was mischievous and fascinating. He wanted to see it again. He wanted to see it always.

“Tex Mex,” she repeated, and he could hear her pushing her accent up a notch.

“Tex Mex,” he tried, unable to match the broad twang.

Diane’s giggles turned into full out laughter. It was wonderful to see, and the glee she was obviously feeling was infectious because he found himself laughing too, losing himself to the situation. It was good to laugh, to really laugh at something silly, and Nick realised he’d relaxed a lot more than he had in a long time. Certainly since before Gander.

As they calmed down, Nick’s eyes were drawn to Diane. Her cheeks were flushed again, and her eyes were bright as she wiped tears from them.

She looked beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” she said, coming around the bench, “I didn’t mean to laugh quite so hard.”

“Quite so hard?” Nick repeated.

“You know what I mean,” she said with a grin.

“I do,” he replied. “Thank you for the meal.”

“I’ll thank my sister,” Diane said. “Though maybe not from you.”

“She doesn’t know I’m here,” Nick said.

“No,” Diane replied, wincing. She had been finding lids for the food, but her fingers stilled as she looked up at Nick. The atmosphere dropped a level or two as the light faded from her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t…” she took a deep breath. “Why don’t I show you where the bathroom is, and you can settle in while I tidy up, and then I can tell you the whole story?”

“That’s not necessary,” Nick started.

“No, I don’t mind,” Diane said. “Really, I want you to know. If you don’t mind me telling you.”

“Of course not,” Nick said immediately.

He collected his bag from the entranceway and followed Diane down the short corridor. Three doors proved to be two bedrooms and a bathroom. It felt strangely more intimate than all the time they’d spent together in Gander, standing in the silence of Diane’s home staring at a bare mattress.

“I’ll have to make up your bed,” she told him apologetically. “It won’t take a minute.”

“I can do it,” Nick said. “But let’s leave it for a while.”

“Yes,” Diane replied. “Hang on…” She disappeared, then returned with a towel, washcloth and sheets for the double bed. “We can argue about who’ll make your bed later.”

Nick smiled at her tactful comment. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” he said.

“Yes,” Diane said again.

She slipped out, and he sat on the edge of the bed. This had obviously been David’s room, the bookshelf still bearing books, sports trophies and assorted memorabilia that cried, ‘High School Student!’ Nick took a moment to breathe deeply. He was sitting here, in Diane’s flat, in Dallas. Stuck here, more or less, but stuck here in Diane’s flat.

There had been a moment earlier. Or maybe not, he wasn’t entirely sure. It had been a long time since he’d had any kind of personal relationship with a woman and he’d almost forgotten how it felt. Diane was kind, that was certain, and the reasons she’d given for her kindness were reasonable and platonic, and if he wasn’t looking any deeper Nick would think her a good friend.

But whether he meant to or not, Nick couldn’t help noticing the details of the way she moved and spoke, and the air around her seemed charged, at least to him. He knew there was nothing definitive in her behaviour that said she was interested in him. But he remembered the drunken kiss at the Screech In, and the awkward visit to that lookout in Gander, and how she’d gripped his hand as they took off from Gander Airport. Not to mention the hug they’d shared earlier this evening. And hadn’t she been more worried about him that people generally were about their friends?

Frowning, Nick took his wet bag from his suitcase. He couldn’t do anything about it right now. It would be taking advantage of her hospitality, and her friendship was too valuable to risk. Tonight he would stay in the spare room, grateful for her kindness and perhaps tomorrow there might be an opportunity to ask if she wanted to stay in contact with him when he returned home.

Yes. That was a plan he felt comfortable with. Nick nodded to himself, putting his wet bag down to make up the bed, and deciding to change his shirt. It was a little wrinkled but it was clean and felt far better than the shirt he’d travelled in that day. Nick ventured into the bathroom and ten minutes later with his teeth brushed and face and hands washed, he felt much better. He set out his pyjamas, an action born of deeply ingrained habit, before turning to the kitchen door with a deep breath.


	2. Chapter 2

“Perfect timing,” Diane greeted him as he walked back into the kitchen. All evidence of their meal was gone, and she was pouring hot water into two mugs. He watched, noticing how busy she’d been while he was gone. Not only was the kitchen clean but she had changed her clothes and he was fairly sure the lights were on in a different arrangement. The kitchen was dimmer, and the corner lamps in the sitting room were lit. It gave the whole place a cosy atmosphere.

“It’s very quiet,” Nick said. “I feel like I’m speaking very loudly.”

Diane smiled at him. “I know what you mean,” she said. “I almost put some music on, but this is nice.” She handed him his mug and they walked together into the living room. Nick wasn’t sure what she had planned seating wise but she sat at one end of the sofa, tucking her feet up and leaning against the arm, so he took the far end, turning to face her.

“It will be strange later,” Nick said. “I think I became used to all the little noises other people made at night.”

Diane hummed, sipping from her mug. “Like white noise,” she said.

“Yes,” Nick replied. The topic made him wonder if it would be strange sleeping in a room on his own again, but he didn’t bring it up lest it make Diane uncomfortable. Instead he sipped from his own tea, smiling as he realised it was largely indistinguishable from what he drank at home. It didn’t feel the same, but it was hardly as bad as Diane had insinuated it might be.

_And she made it the way I like._

_She remembered from Gander._

“How is it?” Diane asked.

Nick considered the question. “It’s fine,” he said.

“That bad?” Diane asked.

“No,” he protested with a smile. He considered his answer again. “It’s never the same as my favourite brand, with my milk in my cup at home,” he said, adding a smile so she knew he wasn’t being critical. “But I appreciate that you made it for me. And you remembered how I take it.”

“White with no sugar,” Diane replied.

“Yes,” Nick replied. “And you prefer iced tea, with an atrocious amount of sugar-”

“-hey!” Diane protested.

“-but for evenings and late nights, hot tea white with one and a half sugars,” Nick finished with a smile.

Diane was still smiling at him, and she nodded. “Correct,” she said.

The quiet moment was lovely between them, and Nick savoured it. He was curious to hear the story about her sister, but again he didn’t want to push. He was absolutely content to sit here trading gentle digs with Diane, memories from Gander nourishing their conversation, every part of him warm with her hospitality. Instead of the crushing press of silence he’d feared, it felt comfortable and intimate, a relief after so many people so close in Gander.

“I wonder if the silence will sound the same at home?” Nick wondered aloud.

“Sound the same?” Diane asked.

“It’s not entirely silent,” he explained. “I can hear…a lot of small noises. Things I don’t usually notice.”

Diane nodded. “Plus there are two of us here,” she said.

The mood changed, a sombre note coming into the air. Nick looked down into his mug, the reality that he would be going home to London bursting into his good mood.

“So, my sister,” Diane said suddenly, drawing her knees up and cradling her mug between her hands. “You ready for a firecracker of a story?”

“Really?” Nick asked, surprised at the change of tone.

“Well, there are firecrackers in the story,” Diane said with a half-smile. “It’s not a funny story, really. I was just trying to make it sound more exciting.”

“Right,” Nick said. He wasn’t sure the story behind why Diane and her sister weren’t all that close could be exciting, but it was her story, after all. And he was intrigued by any story that would tell him more about her.

As Nick waited, he watched Diane’s face change as she readied herself to tell him the story. “Sharon and I are twins,” she said. “I’m older by thirteen minutes.”

Nick smiled. “I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do,” Diane said with a smile. “We’re not identical, but when we were little we looked alike enough that people would get us mixed up all the time. We were always really close. When I had David she was there all the time, and we talked every day.”

Nick nodded, not sure what to say. He wanted to ask about David’s father, about the rest of Diane’s family – but this was her story, and it was mostly about her sister, so he tucked his questions away and listened.

“A few years ago Sharon was seeing someone. His name was Jake. I didn’t like him, he was too,” she paused, rolling her hand over as she searched for the right word, “smooth? He had an answer for everything, but he never really seemed to answer your question, you know what I mean?”

“I do,” Nick replied.

“Anyway, fireworks are legal in Texas, but you can’t set ‘em off inside the Dallas city limits,” Diane continued. “Or outside for like, five miles maybe? Anyway, you have to drive right out to let them off, even on the fourth of July. So David was about sixteen, and he comes home from school one day, and he’s hiding something. It’s all over his face, he’s a terrible liar. I confronted him and he told me Jake had come to his school and was selling firecrackers. Which is illegal.”

“Good grief,” Nick murmured.

“And he was selling to young kids. Too young to be able to drive out of town, which was reckless and dangerous,” Diane added.

Nick nodded. “What happened next?”

“I confiscated David’s firecrackers,” Diane said. “He wasn’t very happy.”

“You had his best interests in mind,” Nick said. “Did he say where he was planning to set them off?”

“No,” Diane replied. “He was old enough to drive out of town, but still…”

“I understand,” Nick said.

“Anyway, I called Sharon,” Diane said. “I was angry with Jake, especially for selling them to David,” her expression became sheepish, “I wasn’t very nice, I don’t think.” Nick watched her fingers clench on her mug. He could see her fighting the expression on her face and he longed to reach out to her.

_Let her finish the story._

“How did she react?” Nick asked carefully.

“Badly,” Diane answered. “She defended Jake, of course, and by the time we hung up we were both angry.”

“Did you speak to Jake at all?” Nick asked. The story was proving far more complex than he’d imagined it might be.

“No,” Diane said. She frowned, eyes still on her mug. She looked smaller somehow. As thought she was ashamed of the memories she was bringing out to the light. “When Sharon wouldn’t listen, I called the police. Anonymously, but Sharon knew it was me.”

Nick didn’t reply. He didn’t want her to think he was judging what she’d done, one way or the other.

_Sounds reasonable to me._

“Turns out they were looking for him in Arizona and New Mexico,” Diane said. “I don’t know what for. Sharon wasn’t too happy with me. Jake blamed her, and she never heard from him again after the police took him away. I think they sent him back to face the charges.”

“Wow,” Nick murmured. This was not what he was expecting. Some petty argument perhaps, or a gradual drifting apart. “That must have been difficult.”

Diane nodded. She was still frowning into her mug, and in the quiet, still air, he could hear her breathing deep and purposefully.

_As though she’s trying not to cry._

Nick didn’t know what to say. He watched as she shook herself a little, leaning over to place the mug on the floor. She didn’t reach that far before her face crumpled and she scrambled off the sofa, heading into the kitchen with her mug in hand. He heard a sharp bang, maybe the mug landing on the bench, then…nothing.

Nick’s heart was thumping. Was she alright? Should he give her a few moments to pull herself together, or would it be better to follow and check she was okay?

_Better to try. She wanted to be hugged last time._

He stood up, wincing a little as his knees creaked, looking into the kitchen before he moved in that direction.

Diane was standing at the sink, the mug on the bench beside her. Nick could only see her in profile, and her head was lowered into her hands. Even from here he could see her shoulders shaking. He was moving before he’d really thought about it. An unhappy Diane wasn’t something he could ignore.

Stepping across the threshold into the kitchen felt like he was crossing a boundary, and his senses were on high alert. If she made even the slightest indication she wanted to be left alone, he was ready to bolt. Not wanting to scare her, Nick placed his mug on the end of the bench and moved closer, leaving space for her to walk past him if she wanted to.

“Diane?” he said, voice deliberately low and quiet. He still wasn’t sure how loud he needed to be, not after so long competing with people to be heard. He leaned against the bench, head still turned to look at her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Nick wasn’t sure what he expected, so when she turned, still sobbing, to press into him again, it took a second for him to react. Before he knew it they were standing in a familiar pose, her hands at her face as they had been when they walked into her home, Nick’s arms wrapped protectively around her.

Though he didn’t wish distress on her, holding Diane again so soon was wonderful. Without thinking he started tracing wide circles up and down her back, one arm across her shoulders to hold her steady. In the dark and quiet it felt intimate, even more so than earlier. Perhaps because of the conversation they had shared on the sofa? Nick didn’t know, but he was relieved he could offer comfort this time. Sitting on the far end of the sofa had not been ideal, from that perspective. It felt like such a distance between them, which was strange. In Gander, there had always been a sense of being in public.

Here in Dallas, it was all different.

They were in Diane’s home, there was nobody around…it felt like a more personal connection than they had shared in Gander, even though they had supported each other while they had been stranded. That was enforced, Nick mused, his palm starting to tingle with the continuous friction against the back of Diane’s jumper. This was a choice, at least to some extent. Diane had chosen to invite him into her home, and he had chosen to accept. Perhaps that was what made it different. She’d wanted him to come here, even if he hadn’t quite figured out why. Even if it was just to keep an eye on him, or to ween herself off seeing him, or to give herself someone who understood what had happened in Gander.

She had still chosen to keep him in her life.

As Nick considered all this, he realised Diane had stopped shaking. His hand was still sweeping wide circles across her back, and as he wondered if he should stop, her arms pulled a little against his embrace. Nick loosened his grip, unsure what she was doing until he felt her hands slide around his waist and settle at his back, her face resting on his chest. She let out a breath, long and shaky and as she exhaled Nick felt her relax into him. Their bodies were pressed together now, and he was glad he’d leaned against the bench. His knees were certainly weaker than they might be. Diane showed no signs of wanting their embrace to end, so he started the circles on her back again, and she sighed.

_Okay then._

Nick couldn’t see Diane’s face, but her head was tucked in under his chin, and he found himself marvelling again at how vulnerable she was prepared to be with him. Not just offering him a place to stay – they’d only known each other less than a week – but emotionally vulnerable, sharing the story about her sister. And she hadn’t edit out the part with which she was obviously still uneasy. It was a long time since someone had offered that part of themselves to him, and he’d been unsure what to do with it earlier, but now the answer came to him. It wasn’t comfortable; if he was being honest with himself it was a little frightening.

_She opened up to you._

_Take the risk._

He shifted a little, clearing his throat as he tried to find the right words.

“A few years ago,” Nick said, keeping his voice very quiet, “well, more than a few.” He took a second to figure it out and then started again. “Eleven. Eleven years ago, I met Clarissa. She was an attorney. We met through a mutual acquaintance and got along very well. By the time we’d been seeing each other a year, I was considering proposing to her.”

Nick swallowed. He paused, wondering if Diane was listening, but he could feel her breathing steady and lighter. When he didn’t continue immediately, her arms constricted a little – a small squeeze of support, he hoped.

Taking a deep breath, he continued, knowing his voice wasn’t as clear as it had been.

“I came home from work one night and she was waiting for me. We’d only moved in together a few months before. As it turned out, she’d been seeing someone else since before then.”

“I didn’t listen, apparently. I worked far too much, and I never gave her the emotional support she needed.”

Nick repeated her words without thinking about them, the damage they’d done on many internal revisitings so deep he could barely feel it any more. The scar tissue he’d deliberately built up around it bore no nerves and he wanted to keep it that way.

“She’d never said any of this to me before that night. We both worked long hours, and when she didn’t…I mean, I didn’t think she liked…she wasn’t a particularly tactile person.” He drew a deeper breath to try a wry laugh, but it just came out as a kind of sad bark. “Apparently she was, just not with me.”

Story done, Nick closed his eyes. He had no idea how Diane would react to his words, and he wasn’t sure if he felt better for sharing it yet, but at least it was done. The kitchen was silent, the echo of his own words ringing in Nick’s ears. Thoughts flowed about what he’d said, and he let them slide past without examining them too closely.

_Eleven years?_

_What will Diane think?_

_Will she understand there’s been nobody since then?_

_Has it really been eleven years?_

_Will she understand what I meant at the end? That I tried, but she rejected it. Rejected me._

He took another deep breath, waiting for her to do something, or say something, but she stood steady in his arms as his hand continued its circles across her back. After a few minutes, he realised he was tense, waiting for her, but she seemed to be content to stand here with him. Nick exhaled, ushering the tension out of his muscles until he finally understood.

This was her response. This lack of reaction. She wasn’t changing anything. She was still happy standing here in his arms, breathing together in the quiet of her kitchen, even knowing this about him. It didn’t change things, so she didn’t change things. The relief softened the rest of Nick’s muscles so he could enjoy their embrace again.

When he shifted again, the edge of the bench digging into his skin a little, Diane shifted too. He froze, not intending to disturb her, but she leaned back a little to look up at him.

In the dim light her eyes were wide and dark, and calm as they met his.

“How many people know that about you?” she asked.

It was not the question Nick had expected, but he was slowly learning to leave his expectations behind when it came to Diane.

“Three,” he said. “Clarissa, me, and you.”

She held his gaze. “You’ve never told anyone?”

“No,” he replied.

“Did people know you were even seeing someone?” she asked. Her voice was gentle, eyes probing his through the almost dark.

“Some,” Nick replied. It felt strange thinking about this after so long. “When they asked I just told them she’d gone. That it hadn’t worked out.”

Diane nodded. He thought she wanted to ask more, but instead she eased back, standing up straighter. Her hands were resting on his waist, so Nick thought it was probably alright for his to do the same.

“Come on,” she said with a smile. “Might be time for bed.”

“Yes,” Nick replied. His heart dropped a little at the idea of sleeping on his own. This evening with Diane had been wonderful. The last…how long had it been? Minutes, and a lot of them, he thought to himself. But they’d filled a hole inside he hadn’t even realised was there, and he didn’t want to let the evening go. Didn’t want to let her go, his brain corrected. Despite it, he smiled at her, and when she took his hand, he allowed himself to be led to the bedroom door.

“We still need to…” Diane started, then stopped as she saw Nick’s neatly made bed. “You did it already.”

“Yes,” Nick replied. “You’re the host, not the maid.”

She smiled at him, the gentle amusement not breaking the strangely affectionate atmosphere they’d somehow held onto even after their embrace had ended. Without speaking, she picked up his wet bag and passed it to him. “You use the bathroom first,” she told him.

Nick did what he was told, preparing for bed as his head swirled. Things between them had definitely changed, but the anxiety about it was gone. Whatever happened now he wasn’t worried. Diane had made choices today that showed him she cared for him, and however that manifested, he could carry that with him. Even if it was home. Even if it was away from her.

Nick hesitated, looking at himself in the mirror. He wondered what she saw in him. A tiny shake of his head, and he packed his things away, deciding to leave his wet bag in the bathroom. That was not a question he would be asking tonight.

When he came out of the bathroom, Diane’s bedroom door was open. She stepped past him with a flash of a smile, dressing gown tied over whatever she was going to sleep in. Nick continued into the spare room, then stopped when he saw how it had changed. The bed was still made, but there were some things missing. Nick frowned, looking for his suitcase. It was gone, as were his pyjamas, he realised.

_Where would she…_

His gaze darted around the room until it strayed out of the room and into the room across the hall.

Diane’s bedroom.

_Oh._

Hesitantly, Nick stepped across the hall. It felt like an imposition, stepping into her bedroom, even when he saw his suitcase sitting in the corner. Even with his pyjamas on a pillow, clearly the unused opposite side of the bed, judging by the empty bedside table. Diane’s bedside table bore books, tissues, some kind of small white machine that was whirring quietly; he wondered what it was for before pulling himself back to the moment.

She clearly wanted him to sleep in here.

His uncertainty ramped up again. What was she offering, or expecting? A thousand possibilities ran through his head, some more attractive than others, but he cut them off.

No expectations. Just take it as it appears.

_She wants me to sleep in here._

Nick nodded to himself. He picked up his pyjamas and stepped back into the spare bedroom to change. So far things were balanced, the last thing he needed was Diane walking in on him. Now that would be awkward, he thought as he draped his shirt over the back of the chair. As he buttoned the jacket his fingers trembled and he realised he’d started unevenly and had to start again. Finally, it was done, his clothes folded, collar and cuffs of his pyjamas smooth, no other excuses remaining for him to avoid this situation.

Carefully, he opened the door. There was a subdued light coming from Diane’s bedroom, but the rest of the lights were out. As he stood in the doorway, something smelled good; not her perfume; this was softer. A small thrill ran through him that he would know that about her. The light was coming from her bedside table, diffuse and blurry through the glass of water she must have brought with her out of the bathroom. Gentle puffs of steam floated up and he realised the smell was coming from there. Some kind of oil diffuser, then.

Diane was sitting up in bed, and he could see the shadow of tension she was trying to hide behind her smile.

_She’s nervous too._

For all the calm and confidence she’d displayed earlier, there was something there, and it eased Nick’s concern. She didn’t speak, but he could see she’d turned down the far side of the bed, a silent invitation for him. Slowly he walked around the end of the mattress, feeling her eyes on him, self-conscious in his pyjamas. Carefully he took off his glasses, blinking as he always did to accustom himself to his naturally poorer vision. She slid down the bed so by the time he was settling himself she was facing him, one hand under the pillow.

When the blankets were smooth, he tried to meet her eyes, but it was too dark. Nick wondered if the uncertainty when he stepped into the room was gone, perhaps now that he’d taken her up on the offer to share a bed. The light was low enough they could sleep with it on, barely enough to make out the shape of each other under the blankets. They were no closer here than they had been in the shelter, a gap clearly between them, but there the similarity ended.

No other people.

No unforgiving Army cots.

Nothing stopping one or the other of them sliding closer…

_No._

“Did nobody ask what happened?” Diane whispered.

It took Nick a second to realise she was picking up their conversation exactly where it had left off.

_What happened…_

“No,” he replied quietly.

She didn’t respond, but Nick could feel her sadness. Was she sad for him? He’d never considered that a sad fact, grateful at the time he didn’t have to explain how inept he clearly was at relationships. But now he allowed himself to consider it from a different point of view. Nobody had known him well enough, or perhaps cared enough to ask him what had happened.

_That is sad. Why have I never seen it?_

“No family?” Diane asked, and Nick finally realised why she wanted to know.

“None I’m close to,” he replied. “My parents are gone. I have a brother, and some cousins. Spread out across Britain. We don’t see each other often.”

He heard Diane shift on the pillow and imagined she was nodding. “I miss my sister,” she said. “It’s just us, and David of course.”

“She did make your favourite today,” Nick said, hoping it would be comforting.

“She did,” Diane agreed. “And she bought groceries.”

“She did,” Nick echoed, and he was smiling into the darkness.

“Do you think you’ve changed since then?” Diane asked.

Nick swallowed. That was a difficult question.

_Probably._

_But I still think her words are true._

_I still carry them with me._

“I’m sure I have, after so long,” he answered, a pang of guilt spearing him at his deliberate lack of answer.

Diane was silent, and Nick wondered if she had an opinion about Clarissa’s words.

_Do I want to know?_

“I don’t think her words are true,” Diane said. “Though that’s from knowing you from now.”

“How?”

Nick had no idea how he’d managed to form the word, or even if it was audible; perhaps it was simply resonating inside his head. He blinked, holding his breath as he waited for her to speak.

“You offered…you comforted me today when I needed it. Twice. You listen,” Diane rushed on. “When we talk, you always think about what you’re going to say. You’re a very considered person.”

Nick nodded, more to acknowledge that she’d spoken than to agree. He knew he stopped before he spoke; he also knew he’d retreated into himself after Clarissa. Worked more, of course, and her words had swirled around his head, cutting him deeper until they were inextricable. It had made him reluctant to meet new people, to open himself up to anyone new. Even finding Diane on the bus had been a stretch of his comfort zone, but her kindness at his awkward joke on the plane had pushed him to speak with her.

And now he was here.

_How can I explain…_

“I do,” he answered carefully. “I know I did it more after she left. Maybe a reaction to what she said,” he admitted. “It was…it _is_ difficult not to take those words to heart. When there haven’t been a lot of other people close enough to have an opinion…” he trailed off, not able to put the rest of it into words. He just hoped she understood.

_Nobody’s said anything different._

_Nobody told me she was wrong._

“I think she’s wrong,” Diane said. She took a deep breath and pulled her hand out from under the pillow, laying it carefully between them. “I mean, I don’t think those words are true. About you now.”

Nick swallowed hard again.

“Have you seen her since then?”

“No,” Nick whispered.

“And you think you’ve changed,” Diane said. It was a statement, gently phrased so he could do nothing but agree.

“Yes,” he managed. His heart was thumping as he realised where she was going with this.

_She’s working really hard to say the right thing._

_Why does it matter so much?_

_Someone who cares…_

“So if you’ve changed, her words might not be true anymore. If they were true at all,” she said.

Nick could hardly see her, but his eyes bored through the darkness, seeking out her grounding presence. The idea she was presenting had never occurred to him. Until she’d asked he’d never actually thought about if he might have changed, though of course people did over so many years. Some things he was aware of, but there must be other things, things he didn’t even know were different. And juxtaposing that with the unchanging knowledge that Clarissa’s words were true shook him deeply.

_If they were true…_

Diane wasn’t trying to tell him Clarissa had been wrong. She didn’t know, _couldn’t_ know what Nick had been like back then. But of everyone in his life right now – and outside of work there were precious few – Diane knew him the best. Their time in Gander was worlds away from his normal life, and her easy acceptance of the quirks he thought made him awkward and gauche allowed him to relax more than he had in a long time. He’d opened up when she’d proven patient and interested in what he had to say. Their conversations had given him the beginnings of confidence he’d forgotten ever having.

So right now, she was saying he was a good listener. That he…

His brain stuttered to a halt, unable to form the thoughts for himself.

_I need to hear it._

“What are you saying?” he asked, hoping the flush he could feel on his cheeks wasn’t visible as the needy question floated between them. He closed his eyes, brain half waiting for the dismissive response his brain automatically told him would come.

Instead he felt the mattress shift. His eyes flew open as Diane scooted closer, gently pushing his shoulder so he’d roll onto his back and she could reach one arm over to hug him. Hesitantly he lifted his arm and she snuggled underneath, his arm curling around her back until she was resting against him.

Nick blinked up at the ceiling, hardly able to believe it. His heart was thumping, and he wondered if she could hear it with her head pressed against his chest. He wanted to look down but meeting her eyes would be too much so instead he closed his eyes again and drew a deep breath, incredibly conscious that she would be able to feel his breathing again. It felt incredibly intimate to share this with someone. He couldn’t remember moments like these with Clarissa. Why was that?

Diane’s voice chased his thoughts away.

“I can only speak about the Nick I know,” she said quietly. “The person I got to know in Gander. And here in Dallas. In my opinion, you’re a wonderful listener. A considerate person. Thoughtful, especially when you’re giving your opinion about something.”

She paused and Nick realised he’d been breathing shallowly in case he missed anything. The break gave him a moment to take in her words. Words he’d never thought would apply to him.

_Wonderful._

_Considerate._

_Thoughtful._

He tightened his arm around her, unconscious of it until the tension began to make his shoulder ache. As he consciously relaxed, she continued.

“And as for emotional support,” her voice cracked, and he hoped she wasn’t about to cry again, “I think we can say you’re quite good at that, too.”

A sudden flood of emotion rolled through Nick and he turned, wrapping his other arm around Diane. They lay together for a long moment while he tried to get his head into some kind of shape. Finally, he exhaled and eased back. She kept her arm across his middle, he noticed. It was nice. Warm, and grounding.

“Thank you,” he said, and it was the most inadequate show of gratitude he could imagine. The beliefs he held about himself wouldn’t change overnight, he knew that, but there was also something else now. Something new. A tiny doubt where before it had been certainty. Nick knew he’d have to think a lot more to convince himself to believe that Diane was right, but at least it was a start.

Impulsively, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Good night,” he said. The conversation had been exhausting, and he did need to get to the doctor in the morning.

“Good night, Nick,” she replied.

It felt like a long time before he fell asleep, Diane’s words running through his head on a loop. Her voice was comforting in its certainty and Nick was calmer than he had been in a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

When Nick woke, there was light peeping out from behind the curtains. Diane was still curled into his side, snoring lightly. He didn’t want to wake her but his bladder took the decision out of his hands. Gently he shifted, resettling her on the warm sheets as he slipped out of bed. A few moments in the bathroom, and he stopped, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. He’d done the same thing last night, right before realising Diane had moved his things. Before she’d said those things that made him question the beliefs he so deeply held.

He tested her words and they still felt strange, but he knew it would be worth persevering.

Long overdue, but he wouldn’t have accepted them from anyone else.

A last minute brush of his teeth and he returned to Diane’s bedroom, careful footsteps across the carpet when he saw her still form still lying across the middle of the bed. He eased back under the covers, smiling when Diane opened her eyes, blinking until she focused on him.

“Good morning,” he said quietly. He stopped on his side of the bed, the sheets cold enough to tell him he’d been closer to her before he’d left. When she reached for him, a thrill coursed through his body and he closed the gap until his arm cured around her back again. This time Diane had her face tilted up, chin resting on her ribs so she could see him.

“Good morning,” she replied. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” he said. “Thank you. I’m not sure how I would have slept in a room on my own.”

“Me either,” Diane replied. “After fifty roommates it would have been uncomfortable having so much space to myself.”

A thread of doubt wound its way around Nick’s confidence in their relationship. “True,” he replied. “I’m glad I could help.”

She smiled at him, the hand on his ribs sliding in a slow caress. “Nobody I’d rather be helped by,” she said. “I should be thanking you. For last night.”

Nick blew out a breath. “An intense conversation,” he said, choosing his words carefully.

“Yes,” Diane replied. She frowned a second and Nick could see her choosing her words, too. “I hope I wasn’t…overstepping any boundaries.”

“No,” Nick said immediately. His arm swept down her back and up again, drawing confidence from her that this was okay. “I’m not used to such conversations. I appreciate your honesty.” He smiled. “You were gentle.”

“Good,” she said. “If you want to…I don’t know, talk about any of it, or anything…I won’t bring it up again.” Her expression was serious, eyes watchful as he processed what she’d said.

“That’s very thoughtful,” Nick replied. He took a moment to order his thoughts. “Some of what you said, it changed some things. But I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to think about it for a while. If that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Diane replied.

“Thank you,” Nick said, trying to give the simple words a depth they normally did not carry.

Diane’s smile was wide and genuine, and as she held his eyes, he felt warmth spread through him.

_How am I going to return to London without this?_

“What time is it?” Diane asked.

“I have no idea,” Nick replied. “It’s light outside, but I left my watch in the other room.”

She smiled at him before she rolled to pick up her own watch from the bedside table.

“Wow,” she said, then glanced at Nick. “How fast do you think you can get ready to go?”

+++

An hour later, Nick stepped out of the doctor’s office. Diane had tactfully stayed in the waiting room while he spent some time hooked up to the ECG; the doctor had been pleased but still cautious.

“She said if the results stay the same tomorrow, I can go,” he told Diane.

“Well that’s good news,” she said, though her bright tone sounded forced.

“Yes and no,” Nick replied. He took her proffered hand and they started walking back to the carpark.

“Yes…and no?” she asked him.

“Are you coming to London?” he asked impulsively.

She stopped, looking at him with wide eyes. “No?” she said tentatively.

“Well then,” Nick replied, leaving her to connect the dots. He wasn’t quite brave enough to say, ‘it’s not good news if you’ll still be here,’ but he hoped she would understand.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “I see what you mean.”

They walked back to her car, the contemplative atmosphere following them home.

“I should make something to eat,” Diane said when they made it inside. They’d missed breakfast and it was close enough to lunchtime. Not that it mattered really; neither had anything pressing to do for the rest of the day.

“Not fish,” Nick said, as much out of lack of desire as to make her smile.

“No fish,” she repeated, with the smile for which he’d been hoping.

Once Diane had investigated the rest of what her sister had delivered, they settled on heating the chicken soup and making toast. Neither spoke much; Nick wondered if she was thinking about her sister as they ate. He knew he was thinking about Diane’s words from last night, trying to make them fit inside himself right now. It was uncomfortable, as though trying to make a puzzle piece fit. As he ate, the thought occurred to him that whether he believed it or not was actually immaterial. Diane believed it, and that seemed far more important.

She was more important.

Which was why he needed to be careful. Not do anything that might upset things.

The idea was still circulating in his mind as they cleaned up, moving around each other without speaking until the kitchen was clean. Nick nodded when Diane raised a mug and a box of teabags, smiling to himself as the communicated without words.

_She’s drinking hot tea with you instead of iced tea._

The fact warmed his heart, but he didn’t say anything. They made their respective mugs of tea before Diane spoke.

“Did you want to borrow a book?”

Nick shook his head. “I have one in my suitcase.”

He left his mug in the kitchen as he fetched it, and when he returned, Diane had brought it into the sitting room. She was seated on one side of the sofa, her own book open on her lap. Nick was quietly pleased to see she wasn’t sitting as she had the previous evening. When he sat down, leaving a careful space, she turned to him, her eyes affectionate but watching him.

“You always leave a space,” she said.

Nick blinked, looking down. “Yes,” he said. “Should I not?”

“Why?” Diane asked, cocking her head.

“Why?” Nick repeated. He felt his face heat as the answer came to him, and he wondered for a second if he should tell her. She was waiting patiently, and he decided to tell her.

“I don’t want to impose,” he said quietly. Difficult as it was, he held her eyes.

She nodded. “Last night, when I was telling you about Sharon, I had the impression you were uncomfortable,” she said. “Was that...were you trying to decide if you should do something?”

Nick nodded. “Your body language was very defensive,” he said. “I wasn’t sure I would be welcome.”

Diane nodded. “In future,” she said, “you can assume you will be. You are.” She smiled. “I like being close to you.”

“Okay,” he said, taking a moment to figure that out. Carefully, he slid closer to Diane, until their legs were pressed together.

“Perfect,” she said with a smile. After a beat she returned to her book, and Nick opened his.

He’d read maybe two chapters of _Foundation_ before he felt his eyelids start to droop. Diane had shifted at some point, both of them reaching occasionally to their mugs. Right now she was turned away from him, head resting on the back of the sofa, her back pressing against his arm as she read. Although…Nick sat very still, wondering if he had heard what he thought he had heard. It took a moment before it came again, but it was a small and very definite snore. The same as he’d heard this morning.

_She’s asleep._

Carefully closing his book, Nick smiled to himself, not quite believing it. He craned his neck to see – sure enough, Diane’s eyes were closed, her book fallen between her knees and the sofa. Carefully Nick fished it out, placing it on the floor before he stood up and stretched. He needed to do something, rather than fall asleep; he’d never sleep tonight if he allowed himself to drift off now. What he really needed was a walk.

As strange as the idea was to go without Diane, some time to think might be a good idea. Carefully he pulled the blanket off the spare bed and draped it over her. He found a pen and paper in the kitchen and left her a note. It was only walking laps around her block – he didn’t know the area and getting lost was not on his list.

Before he could tie his shoes, Diane stirred.

“Nick?”

“I’m here,” he said, coming over the sofa. “You fell asleep.”

“I did,” she admitted, stretching her neck and wincing.

“I was about to go for a walk,” Nick told her. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Okay,” Diane said. “Did you want some company?”

“If you don’t mind,” Nick said, “I need a short time to think.”

Her eyes studied him, still drowsy from sleep. “Of course,” she replied. “Where are you going to walk?”

“I was planning on doing laps of the block so I didn’t get lost,” Nick admitted, smiling when she giggled.

“Good plan,” she said. “The block’s big and square and flat.”

Nick hesitated before saying, “I was going to say goodbye, which is strange.”

“We’ve never said goodbye,” Diane realised.

“No,” he said, trying to keep his gaze friendly. It was enormously difficult; her hair was mussed, her cheeks pink with warmth and sleep.

_God, she’s beautiful._

“How about, ‘See you later,’ instead?” Diane suggested.

“See you later,” Nick echoed. He finished tying his shoes, giving an awkward wave as he passed Diane again on his way out.

It was very strange on almost every level. The environment was strange. He rarely took a walk, and never without a destination in mind.

And Diane wasn’t here.

As he settled into a comfortable stride, Nick tried to work out what was happening between Diane and himself. He certainly felt they were emotionally close to each other. He knew he felt more comfortable with her than he had with almost anyone he could remember.

_Definitely more than Clarissa._

Diane seemed able to read him well, and more importantly, she interested enough to try. They had spent countless hours together and rather than growing tired of him, she wanted to spend more time with him. And not just spend time with him – Nick couldn’t ignore how clearly she wanted to be physically close to him, too.

_It’s as though she’s attracted to me too._

_Could she be?_

It didn’t hurt that she was funny, and kind, and beautiful. Nick sighed to himself. Returning to London was going to be far more difficult than he had anticipated. He would never have thought such a connection could be forged in such a short time, and yet his life in London was looking more and more lonely from here. How on earth had he survived for so long without Diane in his life?

The block was large and flat as Diane had promised, and Nick was soon back in front of her house. He tossed up the idea of another lap, but his heart was beating a little faster and a little harder as he tried not to consider the idea that had come into his head.

_Go inside and talk to her._

_Or…_

He swallowed, looking at the front windows, imagining Diane inside. Her word echoed in his ears, and he wondered if his interpretation was so far off what she might have meant.

_I like being close to you._

Nick walked up the front steps, breathing carefully. It was strange to open the front door without knocking; he would have felt silly calling out, so he instead closed the door with enough force to make a decent noise. He didn’t want to frighten Diane.

_Someone who cares._

“Nick?” Diane’s voice came from the kitchen, and he moved towards it. She was doing something with food; he didn’t really notice, his eyes on her face, searching for something he’d not allowed himself to see, if indeed it did exist at all.

“Are you alright?” she asked. Her hands became still on whatever she was doing, and her eyes never left his face as she moved around the bench to him.

“Yes,” he said. “I had time to think.”

She nodded, a tiny frown appearing as she still studied his face. “And what did you think about?” she prompted.

“About you and me,” he told her. “About how I’ll have to go back to London soon. About how difficult that will be.”

Diane nodded. “I’ve become quite used to having you around,” she said, trying for something jovial, but the smile faded from her face when he didn’t return it.

“Can I ask you something?” Nick asked. “About Gander.”

“Of course,” Diane said.

“Do you remember the party? At the Legion?”

“Mostly,” Diane said with a smile. “I’d never drank that much beer before.”

Nick nodded, taking a deep breath. “You kissed me,” he blurted. “Do you remember that?”

Diane’s face drained of colour. “What?” she whispered.

“You kissed me.” The words were no easier the second time, though it was clear from her face Diane had no idea what he was talking about. “The ceremony…the mayor said if you weren’t going to kiss the fish you could kiss the Englishman.”

Diane’s face, previously white, now suffused with colour. “Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry-” she started.

“No,” he said, “don’t be sorry.”

He took another deep breath, then realised he didn’t need words. _Thank God._ Instead he took a step closer to Diane, looking down so he could reach her hand with his. She followed his gaze, but when he raised her hand Nick’s eyes moved back to her face. He needed to see her reaction, to know if he was on the right path. He saw the exact second she realised what he was doing, and it was half a dozen tiny clues. Eyes wider, breath caught, swaying closer to him…Nick held her eyes as his lips grazed her knuckles. Her fingers tightened on his, so Nick pressed more firmly, her skin soft under his lips.

He was still watching her closely, heart thumping hard as he scoured her face for a sign that she was uneasy with him doing this.

There was nothing.

She looked…he searched for the right word.

_Shocked._

_Expectant._

_Encouraging._

None were quite right, but none were wrong, either; and either way Nick knew what had to come next as well as he knew his own name. He was not certain, but he knew now was not the moment to turn away. If he was ever going to take his courage in his hands, now was the moment.

Slowly, he lowered her hand, his eyes drawn to her mouth. Her lips were still parted where she’d drawn breath earlier and now he could see nothing else.

She swayed closer and Nick took a step forward, the toes of his shoes brushing hers. When he swallowed, her hand tightened on his again and he took it as encouragement.

He had to lean down; she was reaching up for him, so it wasn’t so far.

His lips met hers before he expected it, and as soon as they did he felt a tidal wave of relief. He shook their joined hands free, needing to hold her close with both arms. Their lips sealed as Diane’s arms wrapped around him and they were swaying together, and she was kissing him back and Nick could barely remember to breathe.

_She’s kissing me too._

There was no space for any other thoughts, not with the overwhelming sensation of Diane in every particle of his being. She smelled good, and she was breathing unsteadily, and her hand was in his hair and his glasses were slipping, and her mouth was soft and he was fairly sure she’d been eating something chocolate while he was gone. She was pressing against him, solid and real and Nick could hardly believe it was happening.

As they broke apart, shaking and breathing hard, Nick’s eyes stayed closed. He wanted to keep this moment for just a second longer. It was perfect and he wanted to lock it away.

“Nick?”

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes to focus on Diane.

“Good walk?” she asked, smiling.

“It cleared my head,” Nick replied, feeling his face heat.

“I’m glad it did,” Diane said.

Nick felt himself smile, his eyes roaming her face.

“We should talk about-” he began, but Diane reached up to kiss him before he could finish. Nick couldn’t think while she was doing that, and he certainly wasn’t going to stop her, so he kissed her back.

“We don’t need to make any decisions right now,” Diane said. “Is it okay if we rain check this conversation until after you see the doctor tomorrow?”

Nick blinked. “How do you know what I was going to say?” he asked.

Diane smiled. “You want to talk about what happens when you can fly again,” she said. Her arms tightened around him as he nodded. “Is the rain check okay?”

“Yes,” he replied, and met her halfway again.

This time his brain had time for one last thought.

_If she knows you well enough to get that right…_

_Amazing._

He smiled and pulled her closer.


End file.
